


Burgundy Dawn

by morgellons



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Alpha/Beta/Omega elements, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Blood Kink, Body Horror, Claiming Bites, Cyberpunk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Dystopia, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Existentialism, Fear Play, Feels, Fondling, Gore, Heavy Angst, Hotel Sex, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized Misogyny, Knotting, Multi, Organized Crime, Politics, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Power Dynamics, Predator/Prey, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex Work, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Smut, Social Commentary, Speciesism, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation, suicide ideation, vent fic, ”Human”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgellons/pseuds/morgellons
Summary: “Who are you?” A voice asked.In the center lay a frail figure, his eyes cracked open only barely to no avail. His arms rested motionlessly at his sides, so still it was as if they were bound by some unforeseen force— stretching and winding over the limbs like iron shackles. As the voice reverberated through the premises, only a brief twitch of an ear suggested consciousness.“I am no one.”~~~A social commentary following Roland Everett, a wolf at the top of the caste hierarchy in a speciesist dystopia.





	1. Paradise Ascendant

**Author's Note:**

> If you read my other fics by any chance, I’m just here to vent this idea I’ve had for the past few months. Don’t worry, I’ll update the other things when I’m in a better state of mind.
> 
> A social commentary following Roland Everett, a wolf at the top of the caste hierarchy in a speciesist dystopia. This series will include extreme themes, so remember to check the tags on each chapter for content information. Find Burgundy Dawn on SoFurry here:
> 
>  
> 
> [ https://www.sofurry.com/view/1502652](https://www.sofurry.com/view/1502652)
> 
>  
> 
> I don't have a beta reader, so feel free to correct any errors you notice in the comments. Feel free to ask questions below, or drop by my discord server instead for behind-the-scenes tidbits and discussion.
> 
>  
> 
> <https://discord.gg/mqaPAA9>

On the corner of a backstreet bustling with specialty vendors lurked a sprawling fortress, its facade pummeled by the heavy rains of the night cycle. A depravity in itself, the grand establishment lured in all the filth of the underworld from the city and the lands beyond with its outlandish ventures and, for lack of a better word, scenery. Beyond the fluorescent signs and armed bouncers amassed crowds gawking at that night's main-- and complementary-- attraction: an okapi, scantily clad in strappy, black lingerie. The surrounding observers sat entranced by the voluptuous figure, bathed in the strobelights' electric blue glow amidst the otherwise crepuscular vicinity-- all except for one. 

"Would you like to try something new, sir? We've got an all new lineup of drinks for the season-- Raspberry Moscow mule, white cran vodka, and just about any flavor of margarita you could dream of..." A plucky waiter inquired of him. 

He took a brief glance at the young pale fox, who couldn't have been short of nineteen. He had a soft, sandy coat and curly, blonde shoulder-length hair, from which two long ears sprouted upward. Almost shielded from sight were two round, jade green eyes which somehow still glimmered with an impossible purity, even in this vile pit of libertines. 

"Whiskey-- straight. None of that girly shit." 

"They're rather good if you ask me, mister," the fox simpered with a shrug. "But if you insist, I'll have it right away."

After a brief glance across the room, it appeared there was nobody of significance in the lobby, and Jannick still hadn't arrived yet, as it seemed. The wolf watched the waiter hurry off into the dark of the club's expanses. The lithe thing was all flats and rounds, from which his uniform hung loosely, and within him was not a single fiber of dominion. From the tip of his slight muzzle to his plush tail, it was a wonder how he managed to fend his way through the city's unforgiving depths. Just as he had assured, it wasn't long until the waiter hurried back. With him, he brought a tray, where a stout glass filled with amber liquor sat upon it. 

"Here you are, mister," he said, setting the glass onto the table before them. "Call if you need anything else."

"Wait," the wolf interjected just as the waiter was about to turn tail and dash off to the next guest. "Aren't you a little young to be serving up drinks... here, of all places?"

"No, not at all. You see, as long as I'm not mixing them or drinking them-- which would probably get me in trouble anyway-- I'm hired. And anything outside the lobby is off-limits for me, too," he explained. 

"Hmm... Well, you watch your back around these parts, kid."

"Yeah, I do," the fox murmured before leaving at last. He kept his tail low as he approached the next guest.

The wolf turned away, offering the occasional brief glance at the okapi dancer. That wasn't why he was here. He lifted the glass to his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the malty smoke touched his lips. As he set it back down, he took a moment to scan his surroundings. He glanced over consorts, patrons, and bouncers, not phased in the slightest. 

"Hey," whispered a husky voice, beginning like velvet and ending in vocal fry. The warm breath against his ear sending immediate ripples down the wolf's hackles. He nearly drove a fist into the stranger's jaw before he caught himself and turned to look him in the eye. 

"Goddamn son of a bitch," Roland hissed. "I told you not to sneak up on me like that."

"Come on, sweetheart. Lighten up a bit, will you? It'll do you good," the dog said with a chuckle as he circled Roland's barstool, not dissimilar from how a predator stalks his prey. He was a lean, unruly German Shepherd with sharp features and a seemingly perpetual smirk. His brown spiked hair was kept up in place with sparing gel, and his deep brown gaze was keen, if not a smidge callow as well. He was young and far too uppity for a Sentinel-- not that Roland minded. German Shepherds were still among the highest ranking dog subcastes, after all. 

"Mister Spicer. Let's not draw attention to ourselves, alright? We're not here to have fun like the rest of these scoundrels," he muttered before leaning in close. "We've got a job to do."

"Which is exactly why we should have a little fun while we're here, yeah? I think..." Jannik plopped into the seat beside Roland, snatching the glass out of his loose grip. He took a sip, scrunching up his nose as he swallowed. Plain hard alcohol was not to his tastes. "...we ought to deserve it at this point. Don't you?" 

"We'll get a room,'' Roland said. "A room, and that's all. Then, just before dawn, we get this done. From there, it's in and out."

"Fiiiiiine, dad," Jannik groaned, an obnoxious sing-song of his usual uptalk.

"There'll be plenty of fun to be had once we're done with these next few jobs," he said, reassuringly. "Then, we'll finally make it off this junkheap. You just need to be patient, Jan. Maybe lay off on buying new clothes every other day? That'll definitely cut down on expenses."

"You know I've got to stay in style, old timer. How else am I supposed to make an impression when we get to the off-world colonies?" Jannick said with a flourish, whisking his hands down the studded leather jacket that hung from his shoulders. Roland had never seen it before-- it must have been new, or he simply couldn't remember the last time it was worn. Jannick's extensive wardrobe was no laughing matter. You wouldn't catch him wearing the same ensemble on more than two separate occasions per month. 

Roland rolled his eyes and sighed. The dog was always moving two steps ahead-- skipping them, rather. It was a contrast to Roland's methodological thinking, but endearing nonetheless. The notion of a future away from everything was beyond enthralling, especially as it felt so close now. He couldn't blame him. "Well, let's focus on getting to the off-world colonies first, okay?"

"You've got me there," he chucked, running a hand through his dark hair. "Deal."

Roland raised an eyebrow. If this short explanation was all it took to convince Jan to take on his tightened budgeting plan, he would have given him this talk much sooner. However, by the look of the dog's narrowed gaze, Roland suspected something ulterior to his sudden capitulation. 

"So, about that room..." Jannick purred, a cheek nestled into his palm and grin spread wide across his face. 

"I'll take care of it." Roland rose from his seat, smoothing his clothes and combing a few stray locks from his eyes. He swiftly navigated a path through the busy lobby. All around him shuffled masses of feliforms, caniforms, and the occasional raptor or reptile. Some were preoccupied with the merchandise, others waiting impatiently for the date that would never show. They all had their own purposes for attendance, as Roland had his. 

"Nice to see you again, stranger," chirped a tall, lanky African wild dog. His hooded gaze and coy smile always suggested an air of sly mischief. On either side of his black, middle-parted fringes sprouted a pair of huge ears, reminiscent of satellite dishes. Amari was a smooth-talker in the moments he did choose to speak, but even greater was his ability to eavesdrop and nearly disappear into any given backdrop. It was part of the job-- clerical services and staff in general were always to be at arm's reach, yet invisible until said services were explicitly required of them. As desirable of an ally he may have been, to trust Amari was to take a gamble with the fate of your secrets, for there was not a single employee at the The Empyrean more worthy of the rumored information broker status. 

"Amari," Roland smiled, giving the desk clerk's delicate hand a brief shake. "I'm looking for a room... preferably on one of the higher levels. One bed, a nice wide window, and nothing else matters."

"Nothing else?" Amari echoed, curious. "Not what I was expecting from a Vanguard. Now don't get me wrong, friend-- being choosy is a good thing. Customer is always right, especially customers like you."

"Nothing else," Roland said plainly. He paused, carefully continuing with hopes to minimize possible suspicion, "I don't have the energy for an adventure tonight... but why don't you surprise me?"

"Hmm... sixty-three thirty-seven should accommodate the two of you. Usually Vanguards only, but you're always welcome to bring the shepherd along. Nice big window, perfect for... exhibition," Amari grinned. He punched in some keys on the screen behind his desk. "Pass, please."

Roland unbuttoned his jacket, slipping a hand inside to retrieve his room pass. Different locations in The Empyrean were restricted by membership status, which was typically determined by caste. The Vanguard already had access to every floor, every club, every expo, and every pageant not restricted to donors, although he hadn't yet been to the vast majority of them. 

"Are you sure you don't want to upgrade?" Amari asked, taking the rectangular card from Roland's hand. "It's worth it, you know."

"I'm on a budget, Amari," Roland grumbled. "...But maybe give it a few months? We'll see."

"As you wish," the wild dog simpered. He swiped the card across the screen as the computer emitted a quiet beep before handing it back.

Roland offered his brief thanks, then made his way back through the darkness to his seat with Jannick. The dog was slouched over the table with lids heavy, waiting less-than-patiently for his partner's return. He nearly leapt to his feat at the sight of him, spirits clearly revitalized. 

"So...?" Jannick pressed, failing to hide his anticipation. His flagged tail was always an obvious tell, though he was typically easy to read by first glance, regardless. 

"Sixty-third floor. It's close enough," the wolf said lowly.

"Awesome!" He chirped, Roland pressing a finger to his lips with a sharp glare immediately after. "Oh, right-- sorry. Awesome." 

He took the dog by the hand, leading him across the lobby, down the neon-lit hall, and into an elevator. The control panel and the interior accents offered a vibrant chartreuse glow to illuminate one another's features. Roland could make out the curve of Jannick's ears, the tufts of fur that sprouted from his cheeks, and his honey brown eyes-- which now shone green. Even in the solitude of the rising elevator, Roland only dared to speak above a whisper. 

"We're so close now, Jan. It's only a matter of hours before we put this plan in action," he breathed, taking both of the dog's hands in his own. 

"I can almost see it," Jannick mused aloud, his voice uncharacteristically soft and dreamy. "Upsilon Apotheosa and its golden cornfields... have you ever even seen a cornfield before?"

"Not that I can recall..." Roland replied, trailing his fingers gently through the fluff of the dog's cheeks. Jannick's hands seemed to tremble within his as they scaled the floors-- or perhaps the trembling was his own. In the moment, it was impossible to tell. 

"...but we can visit them, together," he continued, leaning in as he pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips. Jannick's grip tightened on him as he pressed forward, closing the distance between them again. When Roland broke away once more, the elevator had slowed to a halt, its doors sliding open with a hiss. 

 

The two walked down the wing of endless doors with bated breath. It felt as if they had walked down the same corridor a thousand times until finally, the number sixty-three thirty-seven had revealed itself beside its respective entry. Roland retrieved the pass which he had pocketed again earlier, sweeping it across the scanner. The lock clicked open, and with the flicker of a dim, fluorescent red light, they stepped inside. 


	2. Blood and Milk and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This churning, monstrous thing was natural to him, as it was to most of his kind— constantly simmering at the back of his mind, through his chest, and deep within his gut. At times like these, it threatened to consume him.

 

Beyond the threshold lay a spacious territory showered in a scarlet warmth. Greater than that of the colored fixtures which illuminated the walls and ceiling were the flickering lights of the cityscape, just past the enormous glass pane. It stretched the entirety of the furthest most wall, perfect, as Amari had said, for exhibition. To the left stood a silken, king sized bed, a mahogany desk, nightstands, and a vanity. To the right, a fully functioning kitchen and two doors leading to what Roland presumed were a bathroom and a closet. It was a luxury suite, fully furnished with chairs, and couches, crockery and cutlery, a flatscreen television, and a fine variety of essential naughty equipment stashed away in the drawers. However, this was still bare minimum for a Vanguard-grade room, for Roland’s sole specification had left a relatively basic selection of suites from which to choose. One could only imagine what the paid VIP membership clearance had to offer. He still had the option to call for room service for any sudden, special requests whenever desired, but the circumstances simply didn’t call for choosiness this time around. The two would have time to have all the fun they’d want as soon as it was all over. They would only have to wait a few excruciating hours more.

 

Roland walked across the room, stopping at the window. Through it, he could see every slum and every skyscraper, the markets, and even the harbor. Shifting his focus, he could make out his own faint outline in the reflection. He was a prime example of his kind, though being a smaller and more darkly colored subspecies in comparison to the typical grey wolf. Still, Roland managed to stand taller than most dogs, at six feet even with an athletic build. His fur was dense and black everywhere except for the places where early aging had accentuated his already-present white markings— this starting at his muzzle, and stretching down his neck, chest, stomach, and tail. The tips of his ears and fingers, too, looked as if they had been dipped in white plaster. Sleep was something he often struggled to reasonably manage, as evident by the dark circles under his deep grey eyes. Looking into them felt like looking into those of his own father’s— only softer, and maybe even kinder as well. 

 

“Everything is working out just as I’ve planned. We’re only two floors below the senator’s room. That’ll make the whole process quite a lot quicker and smoother— minimizes suspicion too. Again, the number is sixty-five twenty-nine, so don’t forget. He’s bound to be away for the rest of the night as soon as the suspension exhibit opens, but I still don’t want to spend more time in there than I have to. We’ll grab the rhapsody, summon the car, and leave immediately,” Roland asserted, still staring out across the rooftops. 

 

“Mhmm,” Jannick hummed from somewhere behind him. 

 

“In the meantime, we’ll stay put for a few hours,” he said. 

 

“Mhmm…”

 

“Jan,” Roland barked, whipping around to face the dog. “Are you even listening?”

 

“Mmm— oh. Yes, why yes I am,” he snickered, propping himself up with one arm. He had already made himself comfortable on the bed, lying leisurely on his side with his jacket and pants now thoughtlessly discarded on the floor. Underneath his clothing hid a slender, almost delicate physique. Although only half a head shorter than Roland, the dog weighed plenty less, and could lift not nearly a quarter as much. Jannick’s tail thumped gleefully as he bore a toothy grin. 

 

The wolf turned away, much to his displeasure. “I wish you’d take this a bit more seriously,” he grumbled. 

 

He heard a rustling in the sheets, then a thump followed by a quick, light padding that drew nearer with each step. Jannick scuttled over beside him before squeezing his way between Roland and the glass. 

 

“Now, what was that about a few spare hours?” he murmured, trailing his hands down Roland’s chest, then bringing them back up slowly to fiddle with the buttons of his coat. 

 

“I meant,” Roland sighed, swiftly shedding the thick layer of cloth. “A few hours to prepare.” 

 

“Who said this wasn’t preparation?” Jannick teased, his fingertips massaging through the thick, white fur of his belly. He travelled lower, grazing over each of the soft ripples— testaments of the wolf’s strength. He stopped just above Roland’s belt, pausing as he roused a sharp gasp from his lips. Jannick simpered, leaning forward to plant a chaste peck at the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Wh- what do you mean?” Roland breathed with a half-smile as the dog unfastened the buckle and tugged his pants down, revealing briefs that fit tightly over the gentle ridges of his waist and the daunting bulge between his legs. 

 

“High-risk means high stress. I’d like to call this stress relief,” Jannick purred. He ghosted over his warmth, the wolf shuddering as he traced the contours of his thighs, moving up again to fondle his endowment from beneath the thin fabric. As he pressed his muzzle into his thick fluff, Jannick took a quick, prideful nip into the base of the wolf’s neck— not enough to break the skin, but just the right pressure to kindle a vulgar, ravishing burn. 

 

Roland growled, dwarfing the dog as he stood to his full height. His hand shot forward, wrapping tightly around one lithe, cream-furred wrist. Jannick hissed between gritted fangs as claws dug into the delicate skin. Roland flipped him around and shoved his light frame splay against the frigid glass pane, his hot breaths casting hazy blotches over its surface.

 

“Is that all you got?” Jannick grunted, his cheek pressed uncomfortably against the window. The adrenaline flooded his limbs like effervescent, frigid water, as a wrenching heat bloomed in his belly, simmering down in tendrils to encompass his groin. He snaked a hand down between his thighs to alleviate the burning tightness, whining as he slipped his fingers below the waistband. 

 

Roland reached down and jerked Jannick’s arm away, gathering both of his wrists in one hand and holding them against the window, high above his head. The dog withered in frustration before settling to press backwards and rut himself against his crotch.

 

Roland gathered both wrists in one hand, the other sliding Jannick’s briefs down before removing his own. “Is this what you want?” Roland snarled, steadying the dog’s hips with his free hand. “You filthy whore— _fuck_.”

 

He grinded clumsily against Jannick’s ass, cock erect and aching for his lover. He yelped as Roland lunged forward and clamped down onto his neck, fangs sinking through skin and muscle as he laid claim to the lowly canid. The bittersweet fluid dribbled down his chin, staining Roland’s muzzle and Jannick’s brown fur a bright scarlet red. The taste was exhilarating— it awakened a primal instinct that rarely showed its face beyond closed doors. 

 

This churning, monstrous thing was natural to him, as it was to most of his kind— constantly simmering at the back of his mind, through his chest, and deep within his gut. At times like these, it threatened to consume him. The sensation was overwhelming— a burning all over coupled with the intoxicating scent of their untamed arousal. He needed to dominate him mercilessly, to take him for his own like he’s done so many times before. Yet, Roland pulled himself from the spiral, maintaining a fraction of restraint. He didn’t want to kill his partner in the process, after all. 

 

The wolf slipped his clawed fingers between his lips, pushing past a row of fangs to lap at them briefly. He trailed them down the curve of the dog’s ass, Jannick moaning as they pressed slickly into his hole. Roland dragged them out slowly, careful not to leave a scratch, then twisted them back in. Jannick panted and whined as his dominant quickened the pace, his own sheath growing painfully hard and needy for at least a fraction of pressure. He’d yank a hand out of Roland’s grip to stroke himself off if he didn’t know any better— or if he had the strength to do so, for that matter. 

 

Jannick began to roll his hips against Roland as he fucked him with his fingers. Though as soon as he did, the wolf pulled them free, leaving him so empty and famished and desperate. 

 

“Naughty thing,” Roland muttered, pulling his now-soaked hand back and striking it against the dog’s backside. Obediently, he choked back a cry as his partner held his waist square again. “What is it that you need, again?”

 

“Please,” Jannick whined, the anticipating alone nearly driving him over the edge. Precum trickled down his rigid cock as the wolf’s excruciating hesitance dragged on. “Fuck me— _use_ me, _please_.”

 

“I’ll fucking ruin you,” Roland said lowly. He wrapped his fist around the base of his erection positioning his tapered cockhead before Jannick’s tight, wet pucker. He was well-endowed, ridged, and girthy all over, especially around his knot, like most wolves were known to be. 

 

A thick moan escaped Jannick’s throat as Roland’s first heavy thrust stretched him wide open, though he was not even close to fully-hilted. Pushing forward, he sank deeper into the dog’s tight heat. With only half of the massive wolf cock shoved up his ass, he already felt impossibly full, and nearly ready to split in half if he were to take any more of his length. However, he had done it countless times, and he lived to do it again countless times more. 

 

Slowly, he eased more of Roland’s cock inside of him, each smooth rock of his hips stretching him even wider. His thighs began to shake, despite the extent of his own experience and stamina. Finally, he slid all the way up to the top of his knot, groaning as he relaxed around his lover’s huge, pulsing member. 

 

Roland was already so close, Jannick now satiated by penetration alone. The wolf pulled his hips back, hardly steady anymore, and plunged back into his hole. Jannick sobbed with a pure, dizzying passion as they moved in unison— Roland thrusting his length into him as Jannick rolled his hips to match his quickening rhythm— one that grew more erratic and uneven with each thrust. It became harder to control himself as he neared his climax, yet so much easier to push through the ring of muscle as he hammered into it. 

 

Something between a sob and a growl rolled through Roland’s chest as he bucked his hips a final time, hilting Jannick, knot and all. Jannick shuddered and moaned, toes curling as ecstasy washed over him and ropes of cum shot from his twitching dick. The warmth that clenched around Roland’s cock was too much for him to hold back any longer. He groaned a deep, guttural groan as he pumped the dog full of his seed. His limbs trembled as he posessively pressed his claws into Jannick’s belly. 

 

Releasing his wrists, which were drenched in sweat and rubbed red, Roland walked Jannick backwards, collapsing onto the bed. He lapped at the tender wound he had given him as he sat on his lap, still knotted with his warm belly full of wolf cum. 

 

Though mostly dried, Roland wiped the blood with the back of his hand before planting a kiss onto Jannick’s nose. He smiled, leaning back at a rather uncomfortable angle to return it. The bed was a little cold, but still very plush and soft to the touch. There was not much else left to do but wait on the bed and enjoy its pillowy comforts. It would take a few more minutes to unknot, but there was luckily no rush this time around.

 

They lay there for a while in silence, regaining their breath as they relaxed in a state of drowsy, ethereal pleasure. Yet, as much as sleep called to overtake them, a spark of adrenaline still prevailed. An idyllic land of milk and honey was but worlds away— which was not nearly as much as it sounded in this day and age. Mere meters separated the two from their ticket. Sleep could wait for sure. 


	3. Princess Cut from Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was reminiscent of the archetypical governess from children’s stores he would read long ago. However, she was far too young to assume such a role, and not nearly as nurturing and cheerful from what he could presume.

The plush embrace of the bedding was not an easy indulgence to leave, once adequate time had passed. Roland lay on his back, legs tangled up in the sheets. Beside him was Jannick, half-asleep with the side of his face smushed up against the wolf’s chest. Together, they were so warm and comfortable, Jannick slightly more so than his partner, and as relaxed as they possibly could be before carrying out organized crime.

 

“So, what’s the window all about? I didn’t know you were into that,” Jannick croaked, reluctantly pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He yawned, stretching his arms out, which were bound to be sore like the rest of his body in a day’s time. 

 

“Our getaway. We’ll call the shuttle over instead of taking the main exit. It’ll save us time, and there’ll be less of a chance for anyone to take note of us,” Roland said, matter-of-factly. He stood and gathered up their discarded clothing, throwing Jannick’s over to him and putting on his own. 

 

“Oh, sweet. Good thinking.”

 

Roland glanced at the digital interface built into the wooden desk— at least, it appeared to be made of wood. By this time, the exhibit auction should have just begun. The excitement would sure enough keep the governor captivated while they raid his room. 

 

“Get me a milkshake while you’re over there. I seriously need some fat on this hide, Roland… I’m wasting away, for God’s sake!” Jannick hollered, running his fingers down his flat stomach. 

 

“Mhmm, alright,” he nodded, punching in an order to the room service application. 

 

“You getting anything?”

 

“Not hungry,” Roland said plainly. 

 

“Yeah, right. Why don’t you earn some of those calories back?” Jannick teased, and he could hear the grin on his face from his tone alone. 

 

“I’d much rather wait until my appetite has returned to me.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Jannick said with a shrug. “But add a steak to that order too, will you?”

 

“Expensive, but alright,” he sighed. 

 

Jannick’s tail thumped anxiously as he waited, eyes fixed on the door. He could watch a violent murder play out in front of him, and still have an insatiable craving for a hamburger. Roland was far more fickle, such that even the wrong mood could put him off his food. When lost in a deep focus, it wasn’t rare for him to forget his own hunger as well. 

 

Once their order had arrived, Jannick leapt to his feet, nearly tripping over his own feet as he crossed the threshold and threw the door open. He gathered the tray into his arms, plopping back down onto the mattress with it in his lap. The dog shoveled pieces of steak into his mouth, barely pausing the breathe as he took sips of milkshake between bite. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Jannick said through his stuffed cheeks. “The food here is just delicious, you know.”

 

“I’ll have a bite, if you so insist.”

 

Jannick shoved a forkful into into Roland’s maw, nearly as soon as he approached him. The morsel was tender, splitting easily between the wolf’s fangs. With a sweet, earthy aroma danced the savory flavor of fats and salty, metallic juices. The steak was indeed delicious, but he simply couldn’t stomach anything more whilst under pressure. 

 

“I’m still not certain how you manage to down an entire dish and not put on any weight, Jan.”

 

“High metabolism, and a little too high, I think,” Jannick huffed. “So, how’d you like it? Is it not the best steak you’ve ever tasted?”

 

“Sure, you were right. It’s good. Now hurry up and put your clothes back on,” Roland said, pulling the dog’s shirt over his head. “Let’s get moving.”

 

He slipped into the remainder of his clothing after downing the last of his meal. Roland pulled a handgun from the inner pocket of his jacket and slid it into the holster strapped around his leg. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it, but it would be a good idea to keep it out if worst comes to worst. 

 

“And you’ve got the key, right?”

 

“Yep. Cut a deal with that little fox boy in the lobby a few days back. Slipped him a fifty for a cleaner’s room service pass. It’s practically a master key for every room. My offer was probably better than any paycheck he’s ever seen— you should’ve seen the look on his face! Probably why he didn’t ask any questions. Makes it all nice and easy.”

 

“Right, poor kid,” Roland chuckled. “I suppose it’s a win-win. Nice work.”

 

Jannick followed the wolf’s lead. He switched off the lights, and together they headed out the door. As expected, the hallway was devoid of life, as anyone with the tastes to stay at The Empyrean would surely be enticed by its racy events sooner or later. They stepped into the elevator, which scaled several floors before stopping once the gleaming emerald number displayed above the doors read sixty-three. 

 

Roland peeked past the steel sliding doors, where he found nothing but the occasional cast shadow to grace his presence. The coast was clear for them to begin their raid, and so they made their approach. Standing before the door, Jannick swiped his key across the access scanner, the door clicking open as the display shone green. 

 

The two stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Jannick flickered a small flashlight he kept on his keychain over the dark premises. The suite was enormous, with silhouettes of multiple beds and pieces of fanciful furniture strewn across the room. The light reflected off of enormous screens that stretched the walls, and shimmered against chains and leather straps, hooks and handcuffs, and all sorts of erotic aids that hung from the ceiling and walls— and that was that was only what was visible to them now. 

 

“So  _ this _ is what it’s like in one of their specialty suites,” Jannick murmured. 

 

Roland scanned the room. His eyes were more accustomed to the darkness than the dog’s. There were plenty of raunchy attractions in the room, but no notable storage locations for illicit drugs to be found just yet. He heard a rustle in the back corner from behind one bed, his hand quickly drifting to his holster. He stepped closer. 

 

There, slumped on the floor, was a short, round creature. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be female. Underneath the grime and blood that painted her fur was a soft, mousy shade of fawn. Short, matted copper hair sprouted between her ears. She was completely unclothed, save for a stained cloth hastily draped about her hips, covering what remained of her modesty. A frail arm was raised over her chest, hardly shielding her large, cream-furred breasts from view. 

 

“I’ll check the dresser,” Jan whispered from somewhere behind him, as the quiet rummaging grew to be the only audible sound in the room. 

 

“Sure…” Roland replied. He walked past the cow to the nightstand behind her. An electronic cigarette, several paper bills, and an electric prod lay upon its surface. His fingers grazed over the cash before pausing. The governor may suspect that somebody was here if multiple items were taken. Whereas, if only the vial of rhapsody were missing, he may assume it was simply misplaced in a drunken daze. He stepped away, eyes wandering back over to the girl. 

 

She trembled as the wolf approached her slowly, though her eyes remained fixed at his feet, not once flicking upwards once to examine the new guest. She was reminiscent of the archetypical governess from children’s stores he would read long ago. However, she was far too young to assume such a role, and not nearly as nurturing and cheerful from what he could presume. With her head hung low in some mixture of torment and submission, Roland did not need to see her face to know her affliction. By her neck and her wrists, she was bound to the wall with heavy, metal shackles. The girl had cloven digits, a blunt snout, round features, and a short, tufted tail. She was a cow of the Jersey breed, though in her current state, her species was barely even recognizable. 

 

Cattle simultaneously managed to earn the title of both the most and least valued species in society. Like other Assets, cattle served the primary purpose of providing for all other castes. They bore the heaviest burden due to their great versatility, and because of that, they became an essential commodity. Cattle were born with the responsibility of service, and that was simply the natural order of things, as they have been since the dawn of time. In their abundance, they became expendable to the masses. It wasn’t uncommon for an upper-middle class family to have a cow or a sheep as a governess, nor was it uncommon for the rich to have a herd of whatever assortment of species they’d desire for a harem. Some were specially bred for flavor, others for lactation abilities, sexual stamina, body type, color, longevity, for simple well-roundedness, and so on. They were put on this Earth for others to eat, to fuck, to live out whatever desires and fantasies that would otherwise be frowned upon between those belonging to the more noble castes— to otherwise offer their life in honor to the evolutionarily gifted. 

 

One did not normally think much of them, and Roland was not an exception. However, these were not normal circumstances, and because he was never much of a socialite among high society, coming face-to-face with cattle in the flesh was nothing short of a rare occasion. 

 

She still did not look at him, but Roland took his liberties in looking over her nonetheless. She was certainly a pathetic sight to behold, although that would be expected if you existed to please a man such as the governor. Fresh wounds cut through old scars, some clearly received in beatings, others seemingly self-inflicted. Pink and green bruises flushed around her wrists, thighs, and stomach. Despite her full physique, she had little muscle tone, and clearly was not fed to keep in good health. 

 

“Found it, now let’s get the hell outta here,” Jannick hissed. 

 

Roland’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment, only to return to the scene before him. He sank to his knees to kneel at the cow’s height. She balled one hand into a fist as a shudder swept her figure. 

 

“Roland?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Just…” Roland trailed off, shooting to feet when Jannick’s footfalls began to draw near. 

 

“Here, it was in the bottom drawer tucked between some clothes,” Jannick said lowly, holding the vial out for him to see. His gaze settled on the girl beside Roland’s feet. 

 

“Huh. Looks like the governor likes to keep himself busy even when the party’s over,” he grimaced. 

 

Jannick shone his flashlight over the cow. They both looked her over as she remained quiet and motionless, likely as according to what she’s been taught. Roland shifted, unnerved, at the sight of a nearly-black liquid that pooled between her legs. 

 

“That’s… that’s a lot of blood,” he whispered, turning to Jan. 

 

“Yeah, and it smells wonderful. But we can’t have none of it, so let’s bail before anyone sees us up here.”

 

“Right,” Roland nodded. 

 

He turned away, and Jannick only took a few steps before realizing his partner still hadn’t left the spot where he was standing. Roland was still staring at her. He reached out with tentative fingers extended, and she shrinks away. 

 

“What do you think he does to her,” he said lowly, turning to look at Jan. His expression was difficult to read. His eyes were dark and cool, with his lips pressed into a thin line, as they normally were, but behind it all was the thick, pensive cloud that would pass over him on occasion. 

 

“None of my business, so it doesn’t matter. That thing is just a fucktoy, so give it a rest. There are thousands more to spare,” Jannick shrugged. “You can get your own if you really want to...”

 

Roland was silent for a moment. He rested his hand over Jannick’s and squeezed, closing his fingers around vial. He pushed it towards his chest. 

 

“Go and call the shuttle up,” he gushed. “I’ll be right behind you.”

 

“What? What are you—“

 

“Go, Jannick.”

 

Jannick hesitated, confusion and anxiety hardening in his expression, then turned to walk away. He left the door open a crack, the quiet light pooling in a sliver across the floor. 


	4. Memories of Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking down at the city below was like peering into the heart of a cave. Bioluminescent life forms lived between the cracks and crevices, deceptively beautiful with their vibrant mystique in a world of black.

Jannick waited behind the wheel of their shuttle. It hovered at the open window of the hotel room, the passenger door propped open and ready for Roland’s return. The dog shivered and rubbed his hands together as a cold breeze crept in. The seaside city was normally cold enough, but nights were especially frigid. Seasons were hardly distinguishable anymore. There once existed four recognizable seasons, which slowly became a binary of summer and winter, which in turn, became the one singular nuclear winter. One would hardly know of the others if it weren’t for the continued keeping of time. Typically, only migratory birds seemed to know for certain, by some strange force in which aspects such as date and location were innately natural to their perception. It was nothing a canine like Jannick could manage to understand. He simply trusted the calendars.

 

Roland dragged the girl he had taken from the governor's room by the wrist as he rushed to the shuttle. He threw the door to the back seat open, and shoved her inside. She landed with a thud, looking wildly around as she desperately tried to prepare herself for whatever might come. The soiled cloth was clenched tightly between her digits-- it was her only possession, and she would hold onto it to cling to whatever comfort she could find. A piece of cloth could never protect her from the horrors of her world, but she could hope at very least. 

 

“Mind telling me what the hell you think you’re doing?” Jannick growled as the wolf slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. 

 

“Get that engine running.”

 

“Hell no. Roland, you’re going to get us killed!” Jannick exclaimed, his hands tightening around the wheel. “You need to put that back where you found it.”

 

“Just do it,” Roland barked.

 

“You’re out of your goddamn mind,” the dog sighed, shaking his head. 

 

“Aren’t we all?” Roland said, much more like a statement than a question.

 

The shuttle roared to life as it accelerated forward. Air traffic was busy around these parts, and while the pair usually enjoyed flying, the current circumstances made the sensation of lunging and pressure more nauseating than thrilling. They ascended to a point beyond all the smog and the clouds that blanketed the city’s highest towers. 

 

Looking down at the city below was like peering into the heart of a cave. Bioluminescent life forms lived between the cracks and crevices, deceptively beautiful with their vibrant mystique in a world of black. The cave creatures were ravenous beings, living superfluous, indulgent, and often short lives. In their nests of silk, they ensnared all that remained untouched, binding threads about these victims tighter and tighter until they would never again escape the confines of the cave. It assumes the form of an all-consuming pit, inhabitants even forgetting there was ever such a thing beyond it. A world outside may become unimaginable, for many were born into these nests-- some being the carnivore weaving them, and others being the prey woven in.

 

The city towers, with their sprawling fluorescent billboards and their glowing neon lights, were the dominant luminance in the landscape. Even above the thickest layers of the smoky haze, the stars were so difficult to make out. The night sky was only truly known through the clarity of astrophotography, and the occasional off-world images transmitted digitally. 

 

It was this swath of pollution and debris left over from the Burgundy War that weeded out the weak in the early days— the impoverished weak, that is. If one could afford to tend to their health, they could afford to live in the post-war world. Still, it was never a good idea to spend too much time outside, breathing it all in. Doing so could significantly impact one’s lifespan. Thus, most buildings and vehicles were equipped with air filtration systems— though the best technology was reserved for the higher members of society. 

 

Roland, like many, was born too late to witness the events of the Burgundy War. It was named for the blazing red summer sky in the north, and the blood that stained the fresh snow in the south. This was all when insurgents used to fight back, and they still did after the war for a little while. It was a different time. The details were hazy and difficult to recall accurately for most people, in spite of the war having indisputably affected every living being after its conclusion. The here and now mattered more than what was commonly considered past strife. 

 

“Goddamnit, Roland. It’s getting blood all over my seats!” The dog groaned. 

 

“ _My_ seats, Jan.” Technically, the shuttle belonged to Roland, but Jannick fawned over it so frequently, one would think it was his. 

 

“It might as well be mine! Who’s always driving it? Always cleaning it? Fixing it up?”

 

Roland fell silent. He would clean it up later. This was his mess now. 

 

The shuttle decelerated as the pair neared their residence near the sea wall. It was a townhouse Roland had inherited from his father, mostly remote and quite charming in its older style of architecture. At one point, the Everetts were considered nobility. However, when his father took his last breath, so did their family’s affluence. The manor in which Roland had spent his childhood was demolished to make room for more dwelling units.

 

They descended into the landing pad, and the shuttle whisked to a halt. Jannick scowled, flinging the door open and strutting out as soon as it powered down. He left towards the house, not waiting a second for Roland to catch up. 

 

Once Jannick was inside, the wolf took a look towards the back seat. He was met with wide eyes that shot downwards as soon as they met his. She had been silent the whole flight, and if it weren’t for Jannick’s complaints, he could have almost forgotten she was there. 

 

In truth, Roland wasn’t sure why he did it. He shouldn’t feel anything for the girl. Like Jannick said, she was only a whore, serving one of the several roles her kind was born to fulfill— and one of the easier roles at that. The wolf was not one to act on impulse. Jannick took that on enough for the both of them. He tried to grasp at what exactly compelled him to cut the chains away and drag their captive to his shuttle. It wasn’t lust or hunger that he felt— rather, something else he figured would be dangerous to contemplate for too long. 

 

“Come on now”, Roland said, awkwardly. He spoke slowly, unsure if the cow even spoke his language. He was not completely sure how to address her, either. Of course, there were the common, derogatory ways, but they somehow didn’t feel quite right to use. 

 

She didn’t move. Roland hopped out of the shuttle, closing his door and opening hers. He stepped aside for her to pass, holding out an arm in encouragement. 

 

The cow hesitated. She looked around frantically, from him, to the house ahead of her, down to her lap, and then forward again. She hesitated, pulse quickening as she scooted forward. Her cloven toes clicked against the asphalt. As soon as she steadied herself to her feet, the girl took off running. 

 

“No,” Roland snapped, lunging forward and grabbing her by the arm. She struggled, writhing about, pushing helplessly against him, and whining when she twisted a limb too far in the wrong way. His claws tightened into her flesh in an effort to steady her, and she jerked backward, nearly falling over. 

 

“ _Enough_.”

 

Roland raised a hand and slapped her across the face. She took a sharp gasp, and froze. His grip loosened and his hands returned to his sides. 

 

“Get inside,” the wolf sighed. “Quickly. It’s cold out. I don’t suppose you’d like to wander the streets and freeze to death— if nobody gets to you first, that is. Now, go on.” 

 

The girl nodded, walking ahead of him as the two approached the house. It was warm inside the house, and the air was easier to breathe. She hadn’t been outside much of her life, so the air pollution was even harder for her to stand than anybody who had lived an average life. The factories were always horrible, smelling of blood, piss, shit, vomit, infection, and other unpleasant things depending on where you went, but the air outside felt like inhaling a cocktail of the burning industrial byproducts. The stench was something of a mixture of singed rubber, tar, sulfur, smoke, and the exhaust of thousands of shuttles. It brought a deep, suffocating burn in her lungs— heavy and thick. She was glad to be inside, no matter what might await her there. 

 

As she passed through the halls, the girl took note of her surroundings. On one wall hung a painting that caught her attention. It looked like a scene from a fairy tale, with rolling green hills and trees that sprouted colorful fruit. She had never actually seen anything like it— the scenery she knew was only imagined from whatever she could gather when stories were shared among her kin. It was mainly her mother who would tell her about the times of the past and the beautiful world that once was. She could hardly recall her mother’s face, but she still knew her stories by heart. She knew, too, of the fabled place beyond the stars, green and bountiful just like this earth once was, and how it awaited them all. 

 

Roland walked to the kitchen, the cow following closely behind him. There, he found Jannick, who was busy fixing himself a sandwich. He looked up at the wolf and scoffed. 

 

“I don’t understand you sometimes.”

 

“We could use a maid to keep the house sharp while we’re out,” Roland proposed, gesturing to the girl. 

 

“Whatever,” Jannick grumbled. “It’s not like we’ll even need this place in a couple of months.”

 

Roland was silent, but not without plenty of thoughts of negotiation. It was a better choice to leave his annoyances unvoiced. The dog would accept his choice now, and likely forget that he was ever angry in a week or so from then. 

 

“I’m going out,” Jannick said. “Straight to Boss Cotton so we can collect our pay.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“You’re not coming?”

 

Roland looked at him for a long while, then shook his head with his eyes set on the floor. 

 

Jannick scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. He disappeared around the corner and started on his way back out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to my other social media are in my profile if you ever want to chat! :)


	5. Novocaine for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a certain focus, one could dissipate the sensation. Sometimes, letting go was easier than fighting a battle already lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, past abuse (physical, sexual, emotional), disassociation, bodily-focused self-hatred

She found herself alone with the wolf, whose name she learned was Roland as she listened in on her captors’ prior conversations. He was tall— a great deal taller than herself, by a head at least, and well-built. Though she didn’t exactly know how old she was herself, she knew enough to guess that the wolf was several years her senior, but definitely younger than the governor who had previously held her prisoner. He had a soulful gaze, if not rather intense, that was like pools of clouded rainwater, so dark they were nearly black. The sleek black hair that fell across his face and down to his shoulders would surely feel as soft as silk if only she could reach out and touch it. He looked rather different from other wolves she’d seen, and there was something in the way in which he carried himself that managed to set him apart. 

 

The girl hoped that this household would be a more welcoming place than the last. It certainly had a cozier atmosphere than the governor’s manor. The house’s inhabitants had treated her with some semblance of consideration so far, and she hoped things would stay that way. Hope was all she could muster, though at this point she often thought it foolish to feel such a thing. She had no say in her fate here, or anywhere for that matter, nor any right to expect better from her new captors. 

 

Roland was no Governor Tyson— not in the way he looked, dressed, spoke, or behaved— and this offered the girl some relief. That wasn’t to say she didn’t feel terrified standing before him in the empty kitchen. Her cheek still stung in the spot where he had slapped her— a less-than-gentle reminder of her place. Still, it was hardly the worst she’d ever received. She would simply need to quickly adapt to this new environment like she had countless times before if she hoped to remain in one piece. 

 

“You’re going to need a bath,” Roland said, beckoning for her. “Before Jannick comes back and makes a scene again. This way.”

 

The girl nodded. She followed him down the hall, then into a room where a staircase began. Climbing the steps roused an ache in her knees from the days spent huddled on the floor. Everything ached, really, but complaining never got her anywhere. Like all things, pain was a temporary product of imagination. With a certain focus, one could dissipate the sensation. Sometimes, letting go was easier than fighting a battle already lost.  

 

When they reached the second floor, Roland led her into the bathroom. It was sleek and spacious, with a long vanity and a mirror on one wall, a shower, a toilet, and several bureaus on the wall adjacent, and a window pane and tub built into the wall opposite. He dimmed the lights to a comfortable brightness for the late hour, whose glow was accompanied by the faint orange gleam of the moon in the sky. Its beams struggled to penetrate the smog which still hung heavy; nevertheless, they managed to grace the house’s inner chambers. 

 

“I’ll wash this,” Roland said, reaching for the girl’s rag. Her fingers remained tightly closed around one corner end, not giving away to his light tug. Clearly, she had no plans to part with it, no matter the grime and wear. 

 

“Okay then,” Roland sighed, his hand dropping to his side. “Don’t take too long.”

 

She watched the wolf turn away and close the door behind him, leaving her all alone. As far as she could recall, there was never another instance where she has been allowed this much freedom. However, it could have very well been a test, and so she approached the tub with caution. Her fingertips trailed over the surface of one edge as she looked it over. On the wall directly above the tub’s faucet was a screen, several buttons, and a large dial. There were inscriptions on each component, all of which she couldn’t understand. 

 

The girl drew her hands away. She didn’t know how to operate any of these controls, nor could she confidently guess, and she wouldn’t risk punishment from experimenting and possibly making a mess. She had been hosed off countless times before, but never could she remember using a bath on her own. Stepping away, she scanned her surroundings and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

 

She stared into her own reflection, hardly recognizing the person that stared back. It had been so long since she had last seen herself, not on the surface of liquid, or the shine of glass, but in an actual mirror. It was then that she was able to have somewhat of a grasp on her existence. She looked quite a bit older than she did when she saw last, and she was indeed filthy. Some dried blood easily flaked away as she scratched at a spot on her chin. 

 

Turning her gaze downward to inspect the vanity, the girl wrapped her fingers around the handle of a large drawer. Inside, she found folded towelettes and some soap bars. She pushed it closed and continued to look around. All the while, her ears strained as she listened intently for any sign of approach from beyond the closed door. Presuming she may be allowed this same amount of freedom in the future, it was essential for her to know how to find potentially useful items, whether it be to treat a wound or otherwise care for herself. 

 

She found several things while rummaging about— nail clippers and combs, toothpaste and toothbrushes, hair products and cologne— until her hand settled on a metal handle. She drew the pair of scissors from their place, holding them up at eye level. The blades glistened against the light cast by fixtures over the mirror. Bringing the scissors back down, she pressed a sharp edge against the inside of her opposite wrist. The sting was cold, like a thin line of icy fire across her skin, beads of red culminating in its path as a wave of nausea washed over her. 

 

She might never get a chance like this again— a moment’s worth of agency, a droplet of control in a sea of chaos, which was promptly stolen away once more when she heard a knock at the door. 

 

Roland still hadn’t heard the water running. The door cracked open, and he found the girl standing on the other side, just as dirty as she was when he left her. He came in and closed the door behind him. 

“Why aren’t you taking your bath?” Roland asked. 

 

The girl kneaded her rag between her fingers, breathing deeply and shutting her eyes in shame. “I’m… not sure how, sir.”

 

“So you can speak,” he quipped, slight surprise hidden behind a veil of causticity. Her voice was soft with a light twang to it.

 

She nodded slowly. 

 

“Hmm. Well, I suppose I can show you,” Roland said, leading her back towards the tub. He placed one hand on the edge and beckoned. “Step inside.”

 

Hesitantly, the girl lifted one leg after the other over its walls, standing still at its center. She dropped her rag over the side. It fell to the floor without a sound. 

 

“This button will turn the faucet on,” he explained, pressing the large button central in a ring of smaller, inscribed ones. “Don’t worry about the others. Now, sit.”

 

She sank to her knees, quickly switching to a cross-legged position when they stung with the pressure of her own weight. Around her slowly rose the warm water.

 

“Use this dial to adjust the temperature,” he continued. “I prefer these settings, but you may change them.”

 

The screen flashed with different strings of characters. That particular component remained mysterious, but ultimately inessential to her understanding of operating the controls. She stared down at her hands, turning them slightly as she felt the sensation of liquid swirling about her digits. Tendrils swept over her body, and she could feel her fur flow freely with the warmth. She closed her eyes as the water continued to rise. 

 

The water offered a unique comfort, like an enveloping embrace with barely a feather’s touch. It soothed her sore muscles and made her usual routine a nearly effortless feat. Letting go wasn’t always this easy. The whole world became hazy and unrecognizable, much like thoughts do before and after the abyss of sleep. The events around her still occurred, but she would numb herself to them as much as she could, to a point of peace and nothingness. Her body would dissolve, and she too would become one with the shapeless haze that existed somewhere outside of the current reality. There was no pleasure, and there was no pain, nor being or self or other. Only the unrecognizable, featureless plane truly was.

 

Roland shut the faucet off when it began to near the overflow plate. Unfocused with her fingers outstretched, the girl appeared almost blissfully unaware of surroundings if it weren’t for the tired bags beneath her eyes. When her eyes opened again and she sat unmoving for several moments, it was clear to him that this was something he would have to take into his own hands. 

 

“You’re quite dirty, so you’re going to need soap and shampoo to take away all that grime,” Roland sighed, unbuttoning his coat and folding it atop the surface of the nearest bureau. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for a tall bottle, pumping the viscous gel into his palm. 

 

After wetting her hair with a few handfuls of water, he swabbed the shampoo over the top of her head. It was frizzled and oily, bubbles forming as he worked the gel in. She held perfectly still other than the slight swaying in accordance with his movements. 

 

When the soft bristles of a bath brush swept across her shoulder, streams of soap began to trail down, and with that, she eased back into the present. So quickly did every pleasantry of escape disappear. Each cut stung sharper than they had initially. The scrapes felt as fresh as they did hours and days ago. Her vulva felt rubbed to a blistering rawness with the fire of irritation. She jumped backward, water sloshing around her with the sudden action. 

 

Roland was startled, slightly jumping himself at her delayed response. He withdrew his hands and watched quietly as she clung to the opposite end of the tub, heaving while she stared wide-eyes just over his shoulder. Stepping away, he knelt at the floor and rubbed the moisture from his hands on a towel that hung beside him. 

 

“Sorry, sir,” she whispered after a moment between breaths. 

 

Roland inched forward with the brush’s handle held out towards her. She held it with a loose grip before pulling the brush into her lap. She twirled it around in her hands a few times, then dipped it in the water to dilute some of the soap. The bristles gently scrubbed away caked dirt, blood, and sweat as she moved from her back to her shoulders, over her chest and stomach, and down each limb, carefully maneuvering the spots of broken skin around her sensitive areas. After swirling the head around in the water, the girl went through her hair and over each inch of her body again, the soap washing away with less pain. Once finished, she brought her hands up to her face and massaged away the remaining filth. Then, she set the brush aside and waited. 

 

The wolf took the cue, passing a round bottle to her. She flipped open the top, applied a few drops to her fingertips, then looked to him for guidance. 

 

“Conditioner,” he said simply. “That’ll fix up your damaged hair and spotty coat. You might as well leave it in.”

 

The girl nodded, running her fingers through her forelock, and over her body. The oily substance didn’t rouse any discomfort, to her relief. Roland stood and pressed a button on the interface, draining the now-murky water from the tub. He lay a towel over the floor and offered another to the girl as she stepped over the walls. 

 

As Roland helped drape it over her shoulders, she murmured, “May I ask a question?”

 

He nodded. “Ask.”

 

“Am I going to stay here now, sir?”

 

Roland was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

 

“What are my duties, sir?”

 

“Cleaning, most likely,” he shrugged. “We’ll… work out the details later.”

 

She hesitated before inquiring further. “Is my master looking for me?”

 

Roland paused, unsure of how to proceed. He settled on the truth. “I don’t know.”

 

“Why did you take me from him?” 

 

“No more questions,” he answered. “That was far more than just one anyway.”

 

She nodded shyly, then began to pat down the areas of her body that were still wet. Roland bent over and retrieved her rag from the floor. 

 

“Can I wash this?”

 

The girl’s eyes flashed to the piece of cloth that hung between his claws, and she thought for a moment. “Yes, sir.”

 

Roland folded his coat over one arm and walked to the door, looking over his shoulder to see to it that she was following him. He brought her down the hall and around a corner to a guest room. It was small, but not immodest, and furnished with a bed, an alcove window seat, a desk, a dresser, a large screen, and several paintings. As she stepped inside, the girl felt as if there was some kind of trick being played on her. The room was fit for a noble, if her imaginings were anything close to what that might be. She approached the window, looking out at the endless black expanse of night sky. 

 

“Stay here,” Roland said. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

 

When he left the room, the girl took a seat. She could feel the cold that radiated from the glass against her skin and pulled the towel around herself more tightly, shivering. Turning away from the view outside, she admired the rest of the room itself. It was mainly black and white, with accents of deep blue. She rather liked the color blue— it was so often a calming color, as was green and earthy shades of brown. Nevertheless, she still found it hard to believe that the room would be her own. 

 

Roland soon returned with several pieces of clothing in hand, sans her rag. He laid each out on the bed— a long sleeved sweater, sweatpants, boxers, and socks. The girl got up and inspected each item before pulling the sweater over her head. She was no stranger to clothing, though it had been a while since she had last worn them. Everything was far too big on her, especially the boxers and the pants, which were prone to slipping down if not tied tightly, but all of it still returned a sense of security that she had not felt in so long— even in spite of the anxiety-rousing scent of wolf that was laced with it. 

 

The fabric was soft against her skin, and as she ran her hands over her limbs, her fur felt the softest and cleanest it had ever been. Only the ugly, raised lines that tainted her skin interrupted the sleekness, and she then so deeply wished she could make them disappear. They were the one part of her that she hated the most, for they reminded her of the worst moments in which she had been so desperate to reclaim control over herself, over something. The few times she could dig into her own body were the few times she could exert greater power than that of even the most demanding master, such as Governor Tyson. He had touched her in many ways, but never like Roland had done so today. He was an unusual beast that she still had yet to understand. 

 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Roland said, approaching the door. 

 

A cold surge of panic shot through her chest. The room no longer felt welcoming— only large and empty and alien. Thoughts that whispered throughout her mind became deafening howls. Each shadowy corner felt like an entire abyss that contained unearthly and unseen horrors. To be left in isolation was more terrifying than to be left in a confined space with a predator that could easily rip off a limb or three if he so pleased— or, if there was no better use for her, more specifically. 

 

“Sir,” she interjected, more forcefully than intended. “Wouldn’t you like me to service you for the night?”

 

“No, I don’t want that.” he answered lowly, one hand over the doorknob. 

 

“Wait, sir— please, I’ll do whatever you want,” the girl beseeched, clenching her hands into fists around the ends of her sleeves in attempts to conceal her tremors. 

 

“I don’t… want anything,” he insisted, his voice faltering. 

 

Roland turned to face her. He narrowed his gaze, looking her over. The girl’s ears were flat against her head as she chewed at her lip with fearful wide eyes. 

 

“I suppose I can stay here,” he offered. “At least until you fall asleep.”

 

“Yes,” she answered immediately, nodding with enthusiasm. 

 

“Alright then,” Roland said. He took a seat with his back to the door and watched as the girl climbed into the bed. 

 

It felt the way she imagined a fluffy cloud from a painting would— so bouncy and form-fitting and comfortable. As much as the girl would want to stay awake to avoid the inevitable nightmares, she was so very exhausted. As she gave in to the lull of the night, she imagined herself laying in the warm sun beneath a side blue sky. She could almost feel the dampness of the grass against her cheek, the light midday breeze over her fur, and her daughter at her side once more. 

 


End file.
